Ranger's Christmas Carol
by polysgirl
Summary: Based on Dicken's A Christmas Carol. The beg. follows the book so closely I've even stolen lines. It will continue to follow the book, but a bit more loosely. Will Ranger find his christmas spirit? And will it be babe? The answers all lie therein
1. The man is met

Challenge: December 2006: Holiday Movie (although I'm taking the liberty of changing it to Holiday BOOK ;-) )

Author: Lindsay (polysgirl)

Title: Ranger's Christmas Carol - Part 1

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Not mine, Not mine, but if I were one of the ghosts, I'd never let him go ;-)

A/N: This starts out very much like the Dickens novel, I've even stolen some lines. And am trying for a dicken's style, in a way. But I will not be stealing many more lines – much more fun to stay original!!! J

Also – this will be written and posted in parts. Much more fun that way J

Ranger's Christmas Carol

Part 1

Jonah Greer was dead to begin with. Of that, there is no doubt whatsoever. His burial was accompanied by a 21 gun salute, and a sad farewell from the rest of his Rangers team. Ricardo Carlos Manoso signed off on the paperwork detailing the events up to his death, the errors in the mission and the guilt he himself felt for having let such a good man, such an integral part of his team, down. He was the leader, the death of this member fell heavy on his shoulders. And that death was as certain as bullets fired from a gun.

So there was no doubt in the mind of Carlos, or anyone else, that Greer was definitely dead. His young wife and small child were left to mourn, and build a best a life they could without him. Guilt over the way the mission went down led one Ricardo Carlos Manoso to leave money with the young widow on more than one occasion, until she got back on her feet. She was now happily remarried, but Joker's son would never know his father. And this was why Carlos knew, that when working in a field where death is but a dark alley away, one must travel the road of life alone. He vowed he would never subject anyone else to the heartbreak that Joker's widow went through, never subject any child of his to the pain of not knowing their father. His sole heir, a girl named Julie, from whom he remains distant so as to protect his heart and hers. And this, he claims, is his absolution.

But it must be known, without any doubt, that Jonah Greer is very dead, buried in a jungle in the depths of the African Rainforests. For if there is any doubt of Jonah Greer's deceased status, this story will not hold it's poignancy. And if such is the case, the story is a waste of good trees. So understand, the absoluteness of the death of Jonah Greer, known to his Rangers team as Joker.

And so we find ourselves, in Christmas eve, in the office building of one Ranger Manoso. The lights were dark in all of the other buildings on Haywood Street. But this building of nondescript nature shone with lights: lights on the fourth floor where his men lived, lights on the fifth floor where a skeleton crew manned the control room. Lights, even, on the sixth floor, where the housekeeper Ella was busy wrapping gifts for her children and grand children, and beginning preparations on the christmas dinner she would be bringing to her daughters house the next day. But the seventh floor... The seventh floor remained dark. Instead, a light shone in a back office on the fifth floor, where Ranger Manoso sat, shuffling paperwork.

The skeleton crew manning the control room were speaking quietly amongst each other, busy sharing their plans for the upcoming day. They would have christmas off, while another skeleton crew who were currently celebrating christmas eve with their families and friends would work the next day, making sure that all remained safe and secure on their accounts on these most joyful days. All employees had already received their hefty christmas bonuses. For Ranger as far from stingy with his money. Indeed, if he were, one Stephanie Plum would not currently be driving his $200,000 Porsche 911 Turbo while waiting for her insurance check to come from the last car she managed to destroy.

And so it can be said beyond reasonable doubt that Ranger Manoso's attitude towards money was not an issue on Christmas. Far from it, his employees received large bonuses, their wifes, girlfriends, or mothers got beautiful gift baskets. Even his daughter received gifts of monetary generosity. And as it was said, he had entrusted his Turbo to a Ms. Plum, whose reputation for the destruction of cars was known far and wide. No, money was definitely not the reason Mr. Manoso was sitting in his office, late christmas even night, shuffling paperwork. It was not stingyness with money that would bring about the events that follow. Rather, one must look at the state of one Ricardo Carlos Manoso, streetname Ranger,'s heart.

At this moment we are interrupted by one Lester Santos, who knocked briefly on the office door before sticking his head in. "False alarm at the Meyer Mansion. It appears Oscar forgot his passcode. Again. Just got back and all is resolved." he informed his boss cheerily.

"Good." Ranger nodded.

"I'm off until the 27th. Merry Christmas, Boss."

"Christmas. Humbug." Ranger sighed, not noticing that Lesters head had not yet left the presence of his doorway.

"Christmas? Humbug? Surely you mean no such thing!" Lester exclaimed.

"Surely I have no reason to be merry." Ranger raised a lone brow. "But you, yourself, may have a merry christmas, if you so choose." Ranger nodded.

"Don't be cross, boss. Go see the Bombshell, she would love to spend part of christmas with you, I am sure. And do not be so glum!" he chirped.

"What else should I be?" Ranger countered "When I live in a world of fools such as this? What's Christmas but a day when criminals have an opportunity to take reign? When families get closer together, only to break that much deeper when one of them is lost to the rest? When whole families are sitting ducks for anyone willing to take them out? If I were to have my way, Christmas would be any other day, so that everyone were as safe as on any other day. And Stephanie's christmas does not require me."

"Oh boss. Would that you could open up and see Christmas for the joyful time it really is."

"Let it go, Lester. Let it go, and enjoy your merry Christmas." Ranger said tiredly. He ran his hands through his silken dark hair, and resumed his paperwork long into the night.

Soon after the conversation with Lester, Ranger's phone rang. His mother, demanding assurance that he would be present at Christmas dinner.

"Unknown, mamita." he told her. "If all goes well, I will be there. If I am needed here at work, if there are problems, I will not be able to."

This, as the reader well knows, was not absolute truthfulness coming out of the mouth of Ranger. The Mighty Manoso had no intention of showing up for Christmas dinner. He felt that his family was better off if he were not present. Their safety was more assured. And, most importantly, if he remains distant, he will not hurt so much should he lose one of them, and they will not hurt to much should he succumb to a bust gone bad. And so, Ranger planned on a solitary Christmas - just as he liked it.

Ranger sighed and ran his hands through his silken dark hair before resuming his paperwork and working long into the night. The fourth floor apartments were dark when he finally entered the elevator and waited while it hummed and climbed to the seventh floor apartment. He keyed the lock and entered, dropping his keys in the dish on the sideboard. He sifted his mail, and went to the fridge. Ella had left him some dinner, which he ate in melancholy silence. Oh, but the apartment was chilly tonight. Chilly in body and chilly in mind. Ranger barely supressed a shudder. Finishing his meal, he left the dishes in the sink and headed to his room, shutting the single lamp as he went. He closed the door to his bedroom, adding another barrier between himself and the rest of the world. In the darkness of his bedroom he opened his blinds and slouched in the chair, looking out at the lights of Trenton. He sat as such, unmoving, for a long while. And then, in the apartment which should have been impenetrable, on the bedroom door that was two doors removed from any that anyone other than Ella had access to, he heard a soft, distinct tapping. The tapping ceased, and then resumed again, as chills passed over his skin. Silently, the Ranger drew his gun, the audible click seeming even louder than normal when he cocked it to the ready. He aimed the gun carefully at the door, standing braced, feet shoulder width apart. The tapping resumed once again, and he breathed a slow, even breath. And then, of it's own volition, with no turn of the knob, the door slowly swung open.


	2. An unwelcome guest

And I bring forth, Part 2 of Ranger's Christmas Carol.

As always, I own nothing, nadda, nilch, not even the freaking plotline. Plotline goes to Dickens, and the rest, to the wonderful JE.

And a warning for language. Ranger gets a little upset.

00000

**Ranger's Christmas Carol**

**Part 2 - The un-welcomed visitor.**

Ranger stood at the ready, this bastard was going down. No one entered his domain. No one. Except for Babe, of course. But she was different. She was babe. The door swung wide, creaking and moaning on its hinges. Ranger stared at the open doorway, eyes narrowed, every muscle poised for the takedown. He stared at the entryway. It was empty.

"Show yourself." he growled. There was no answer, and no one stepped into the doorway. The hairs were standing on the back of his neck, much like his babe's would when he was near. It amused him when he affected his Babe, but he found he did not, at all, like the sensation when it was present in him. "Show yourself." he growled again.

"R-r-r-r-r-aa-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-n-n-g-g-g-g-e-e-e-e-r-r-r-r...R-r-r--r-r-r-a-a-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-n-n-n-g-f-g-g-g-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ee-e-r..." A milky form appeared in the doorway. Ranger's complexion changed to a ghastly shade of pale, sickeningly white to the point of blue-ness - quite a feat for cuban coloring. "Ah, Man." The ghost said, slapping a hand hard onto his sheer thigh. "I've always wanted to do that." His incandescent face grinned from shimmering ear to shimmering ear.

Ranger's finger hit the trigger, and a shot fired. It went straight through the apparition, leaving a hole that shimmered and floated like smoke as it filled in, slowly. The bullet lodged in the far wall, plaster and drywall crumbing around it. The ghost warped himself into a circle, sticking his head through the bullethole in his chest. "Man. Check that out. Cool. Never been shot at as a ghost before." he stood back upright, then twisted his neck 180 degrees to look at the hole in the wall, head on backwards. He twisted back and looked at Ranger, grinning like a chesire cat. "Ranger, man, how's the tree floating?" he asked.

"Joker." Ranger stated, voice flat. "You're dead."

"Er than a Doornail, buddy." the ghost said cheerfully. "Gotta admit this haunting stuff is kinda fun. I mean, floating around, scaring the piss out of big, tough men like you. Men who build a fortress around themselves so no one can get in without permission. But hey - I don't follow those rules, cause I can go ANYWHERE. Nice fortress, by the way, buddy. Kinda cold and empty though, don'tcha think?" He laughed.

"Joker." Ranger warned.

"What? Shut up or you're gonna shoot me? I heard that a lot in training, man. And you never followed through then, why would you now? The last shot was just cause I took you by surprise, wouldn't count."

"I suppose the same thing would happen if I shot you again, anyhow." Ranger groused.

"Yup. Waste of another bullet, man, but hey, you've already got a repair bill coming for your wall over there." the ghost spun his head around again to look back at the wall a second time, admiring the hole, before spinning his neck back into a normal position. "Although the bullet hole seems to improve it, lends some deviation to such a cold, unfeeling pattern." he mused, then grinned at Ranger's answering scowl. "Now Pal, Buddy, Boss. Oh esteemed team leader. We have to have a little heart to heart."

"No dice. I don't do those."

"And there is your problem. And the reason we must have one. But first." The ghost's voice softened. "Thank you for taking care of my family. It means a lot to me that you would help Missy and Jeremy along, and make sure they could stay on their own feet."

"Least I could do." Ranger shrugged it off.

"Man." Joker read between the lines with ease - a benefit of being a ghost, it's been said. "What went down wasn't your fault. If I had stepped with more caution, well.. But sometimes you just have to jump headlong into something, and hope for the best." Cryptic advice, and advice Ranger would shrug off, but nevertheless one of the best he'd ever get.

"But buddy, we gotta talk."

"I. Don't. Talk. Particularly not with ghosts."

"I talk. You listen."

"You don't even exist. I have no reason to listen to things that don't exist. It is a waste of my time and mental effort." It must be noted that though Ranger's words were firm, he firmly refused to turn his back on the ghost that doesn't exist, nor did he put down the gun, which vibrated ever so slightly with the minute trembling of his hand.

Joker suddenly began emitting loud, machine-gun like noises. Ranger couldn't curb his reaction and he jumped, chills invading his skin at an alarming rate. "Alright, ALRIGHT." he yelled. "Say what you came to say and begone!"

"Oh, but is that the way to treat an old pal, a comrade?" Joker displayed his ear splitting grin once again. It could very well be that he was antagonizing Ranger on purpose, enjoying the show of being able to put his buddy on the spot. But that speculation would be to admitted by no one.

Curbing himself, Ranger spoke through gritted teeth. "Why, exactly, are you floating around being a hellish hound anyhow?" he demanded.

The apparition named Joker became suddenly serious, wistfully sad. "It's required of every man. Those who's spirits have walked forth in life don't need to in death. And I...I did not treat my wife and child well, I did not walk forth in life and life it with all of myself, and so I am doomed to be fettered to this existence."

"You treated your wife and child fine."

"No. I withheld my heart. I cheated on her. I was a womanizer. I was a lot of things, I never grew up. And now I pay, I wear a chain of my creation, one I forged with the life I lead. I provided well for them, yes, but it is not the same. Generosity of coin is not the same as generosity of thyself. I lived with my body, with my brains, but not my heart. Sound familiar, Carlos?"

"Can you not find reassurances?" Ranger snapped. His arms raised goosebumps, and he became uneasily aware that there was a message he must heed. No. The mighty Manoso would heed no shade.

"No. there are none."

"Then why the fuck are you here?" A voice laced with anger, but Joker merely raised an eyebrow.

"To offer you a chance. An opportunity for guidance, to seek the correct path, so you do not end as I have done."

"Take you chance and go to -"

"Now, Ranger, don't be rash. Silence. Hear me out, my time is nearing its end. Tonight you will be haunted by three spirits."

"And this is my chance?" he asked, cynicism and disgust evident in his voice.

"Yes. Without their visits, you cannot hope to step away from the path you've chosen. You are, quite simply, entirely too stubborn." Joker grinned at him, chuckling as Ranger tightened his lips into a thin line. "Expect the first when the clock tolls 1. And the second at 2:30, and the third at 4. Each will take you on a journey, each will show you what needs to be shown." Joker started to fade away. "This is for your own good, Ranger, man. Please, I beg you, open your mind to it, and take it seriously. Buddy, please..." and Joker's spectre faded from sight, leaving Ranger alone in his room, gun cocked and ready, fingers trembling, blank face firmly back in place.


	3. Spectres of Thyself

As usual, I own nothing, not the plot, not the characters.

Warning: Some adult content, some language, spoilers for TS and Hard Eight. Dialogue in italics are direct quotes from HE.

**Part 3 - Spectres of Thy Past**

Ranger stood a long time, feet unmoving, gun unwavering. He then sighed, and looked at his clock. Ah. 3:30 a.m. Jonah's ghost had left seventeen minutes and twenty three seconds prior. And so, the clock was beyond the ability to strike one, and he was safe from these ghosts. What a joke. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he placed his gun on the bedside table. He needed sleep, it was the only explation he could find for such hallucinates as he had had earlier. He had been working hard, and he was overtired. And that was all there was to it. It never happened.

He walked out of his bedroom and ran his fingers through his hair once again as he eyed the hole in the wall. "Manoso, you're losing it." he told himself, speaking aloud. "Shooting at nothing and damaging your walls. Get a grip." he chided himself. He poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey, downed it in one swallow, and slammed the glass down onto the counter before turning and heading resolutely to the shower, and then to bed. He rolled over, closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

He startled awake when the clock tolled twelve. All was dark. His alarm had yet to go off. Narrowing his eyes, he thought back. His hallucations of Jonah occured before 3:30, and he fell into bed at 3:45. And so for it to be midnight, he had to have slept nearly twenty four hours. He felt as low grin spread across his face. It was midnight. Midnight December 25th. He had slept through christmas. He rolled over and thought happily to himself that when he woke up, it would be boxing day, and business as usual. His final thought before falling asleep was an uneasy one... What had rung twelve times, at midnight, when the blocks surrounding his building contained no large clock to toll???

He woke again burrowed deeper under the covers. Damn. Had he forgotten to close a window? Had he opened a window? Ranger couldn't remember, but he felt the chilly air right to his bones. With a sudden start, he lunged up in bed. Upon this instant, he noticed his first unearthly visitor, sitting on his bed, translucent face inches from his own. The creature looked like a child, but upon closer scrutiny took on the form of an old man. He extended a long, muscular arm. His face was void of wrinkles, smooth and dark. Dark. His "skin", or ghostly equivalent thereof, was darker than that of Joker. It stood out in stark contract to the pure white robe the vision wore. A faint ring of golden light hovered above his head. And the eyes held a wisdom that Ranger had seen once before. The two beings stared at one another, unblinking and unspeaking.

And then, the non-existent clock tolled one.

The reverberations knocked him out of his stupor. With athletic agility Ranger lunged towards the nightstand, grasping for his gun. His fingers met air, and then the nightstand top. His eyes widened in disbelief. The gun was gone. Slowly, he turned to stare at the current intruder.

"Where is it?" he demanded of his visitor.

"Oh, my little Carlos. What need have you for guns at your bedside?" the spectre told him, voice hauntingly sad.

Ranger jerked. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. It was a first, for Batman to be rendered speechless, so. "A...A..." he stuttered. "Abuelito?" his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Si, carino."

"You are the spirit Joker sent?" he raised an eyebrow, pulling his blank face into place to mask the shock and sadness of seeing his grandfather again.

"Joker did not send me. He simply foretold my coming."

"Why are you forced to this existence?" Ranger asked tersely. It pained him to think of his beloved abuelito, who nursed his wounds and bolstered his confidence as a youngster, as a floating shade who would know no peace.

"To what existence, nieto? I am not forced to no existence. I come back on occasion to check on your abuela. And now, I was asked to help my grandson find his way again, to help him take his last chance."

"Why?" Ranger interrogated.

"Because it was needed."

"Why did you agree?"

"Your welfare, carino." He must have noticed Ranger's thoughts stray to the idea of sleep being more beneficial to his welfare than this psychologically screwed up situation, for he continued. "Your reclamation, then."

"In what capacity are you here?" Ranger continued, unwilling to believe, unwilling to accept.

"Tonight, I am the Ghost of Christmases Past."

"Long past?"

"Your past, nieto." his cold hand reached out and touched Ranger's cheek. Ranger shivered involuntarily. The hand that had so recently touched his cheek reached down and took his hand. "Come, nieto. It is time."

"Time for what?" Ranger drew back.

"Time to go back. Come, carino." He drew Ranger to his feet and pulled him close. His grasp was gentle as that of Ranger's abuela, but brooked no resistence.

"how do we travel?"

"On the wind."

"But I cannot fly."

"A touch of my hand will furnish you wings." Offering the man no choice, he tapped his grandson's head twice, and they faded from the room together, floating into the skies and the abyss that led them to a past that was lost to him.

They landed softly on the sidewalk in front of a school in Newark. The brisk winter air was plesant upon his lungs. Buses lined up, waiting for the children. They were rushing around, shoving and jostling and giggling as they made their way to the yellow vehicles. A lone boy walked along, backpack slung carefully on both his shoulders.

A beanie sat on his head, drooping slightly to cover the tops of his ears. He carried a lunch pail in his right hand, and he walked slowly, directly towards his bus. Suddenly a snowball winged and hit the back of his backpack. He kept walking. Another hit the top of his head and he stumbled forward. As he did, a boy, much larger than he, ran out from nowhere and kicked out, catching him in the back of the knee and at the same time, tripping him forward into the snow. Another shoved his head down.

"Runty little Spic." they taunted, stealing his hat.

"I'm Cuban, no different from you." he grunted defiantly from the snow. He climbed to his feet and grabbed for his hat. "That's mine."

"You are. You're too dark to be Cuban. Your mama must be a whore, finding a black man to father you. What, your papa couldn't get it up?" They dangled his hat out of reach, shoved him to the snow again, throwing in a couple of well-placed punches before running off. The boy climbed to his feet again and shuffled to the bus, eyes downcast. He trudged up the steps and slunk into the first available seat, sliding his backpack off of his shoulders and placing it on his hap. Blood ran down from a good-sized scrape on his cheek.

"Come." Ranger's abuelo motioned, and they entered the bus themselves. They stood in the aisle and watched the young boy as he sat by the window and stared out, face expressionless. The boy sat in silence. The bus drove through the worst of the neighbourhoods, dropping the thugs and thugs-in-making off. Many snickered as they passed the boy. He sunk further in by the window. The bus rolled along and finally stopped outside of a slightly better neighboorhood. One that he now considered to be the Cuban equivalent of the Burg. The boy got up and slunk off the bus, along with three girls and another boy, and numerous other children. The four children mentioned all headed up the walkway two houses down. The three girls skipping and arguing amongst themselves, the other boy happily running past them and in ahead. The young boy followed along behind, shuffling his feet.

"You were so scared to tell your mama and abuela that the hat was gone." his Abuelo told him.

"I liked that hat." he said, his voice void of expression.

"You liked it because your Abuela made it. It was a gift of love and you felt special."

The man and apparition followed the children into the house. All five of them jostled one another as they took off shoes and jackets and hung everything where it belonged. One of the older girls shoved the young boy. "Out of the way Carlos, you're such a pest." she told him, eyes narrowed.

"Rosita. You do not shove your brother. Apologize. And then go tend Maria, she was lonely without you guys today." A pretty cuban woman came forward and took the girls arm, stopping her short.

"Sorry Carlos. Sorry, mama." Mama Manoso let go of her arm, and swatted her gently on the rear as she sent her away.

"Carlos, carino, what happened?"

"I fell." the boy mumbled.

"Where is your hat?"

"Gone." the boy said, before turning away, his eyes shining.

"It's ok, mi hijo. Lets get that cut cleaned up." Mama Manoso said gently, taking him by the hand and leading him away.

The world shimmered and blurred, and then righted itself again and they found themselves in Carlos' bedroom, Christmas morning.

"Wake up, Carlos." Celia shook his shoulder. "It's Christmas!" The boy opened one eye and told Celia that christmas wouldn't help him. "Here, Carlos. I brought your present from me. I wanted to give it to you alone." she bounced on his bed and handed him a package as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sheets fell away, revealing batman pajamas. He looked at the package curiously, then slowly opened the wrapping paper, fold by fold, to reveal a book. "Abuelito said it's a bit too advanced for your reading, but I'll help you with what you don't understand, and you read better than the other second graders anyways." she told him.

"Self-defense? Celia, you don't know how to do this."

"No, but I can read and explain. And you'll learn. You can't keep getting beaten up all the time, Carlos. It's bad for you." She gave her brother a hug, then tugged him out of bed. "Come on, favorite brother of mine. Time for presents. Mama and the rest are waiting." The boy allowed himself to be pulled out of bed, and hugged his sister back before they headed downstairs together. Ranger and his spirit-guide stood in the empty room for a little while longer, as shouts of laughter and joy came from downstairs.

Ranger stared at the book, laying haphazardly on the bed. "Beginning Self Defense" read the title. He mused that he definitely remembered that book. In fact, he thought, there was a pretty good chance that he still had it to this day.

"Shall we continue?" His Abuelo asked him, and reached for his hand spiralling them to another time.

Ranger found himself standing outside a playground, watching his pre-teen self wait for his youngest sister, Maria. Pre-teen Carlos, now twelve, prowled along the edges of the playground while Maria went down the slide, and up again, playing with her best friend. He kept a watchful eye on them, aware that they would have to start for home soon to be there for dark. It was Christmas eve and his abuelo and abuela from Miami were coming for christmas. His Papa was already gone to get them. Ranger remembered this well.

Out of the dark, three shadows emerged. Three gangly young teens with sour expressions and slothful clothing. "Hey, whore-son, got stuck babysitting? Got a taste for baby-snatch?" They taunted him, coming over. Two approached him, while the third skirted the playground. He snuck around the slide and grabbed young Maria from behind. Maria screamed. Her friend hid up in the slide, unnoticed.

"I think I'll taste this snatch." the teen smirked, and hauled her to the ground as the tiny little seven year old screamed and cried.

"NO." Ranger stepped forward purposefully. "Let her alone." he snarled, repeating his words from years ago.

"They cannot see you, Carlos, you are not there, you are merely observing." he was told sadly, and he was left with no choice but to watch the scene unfold.

"Let her alone." Young Carlos' voice was harsh, but steady. He then turned as the other two attacked him, and in a blur of movement, proved that he had learned much since he was the sad seven year old. Ranger and his abuelo's spectre watched as Carlos took punches, a fist to the nose, but gave twice as good as he got. He did not, however, manage to fell the first two teens and get to Maria in time.

Blood gushing out of his nose, Carlos walked over, righted his sister's clothes and picked her up. He called to her friend, and rushed them both away, to his home.

As the children rushed away, the breeze blew gently across the playground, swaying the swings. Ranger looked at his Abuelo's apparition, face blank, tension emanating from his shoulders as his hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically. "That should never have happened." He remembered suddenly, one day, when his Babe was in his apartment, nagging him about the deep, dark secret he claimed to have. This night, this christmas eve he could never erase from his mind, was the biggest one he thought of when he told her to let it go. It was the reason he didn't do relationships, the reason he would never give his babe a ring. He was a poison, and those he loved got hurt. He remembered how it had been an ugly, sad christmas, filled with police and doctors and Maria's cries late into the night.

"Your mama was proud of you for defending your sister, however hurt everyone was." His Abuelo interrupted his thoughts. "And don't you be thinking any different. She was hurt at the situation, but proud of you for trying your best. You were only a boy, Carlos." And before Ranger could think too hard about that, the spirit took his hand and spiralled him away yet again.

Juvie. Ranger had hoped never to see these halls again. It was a bad, harsh time. He sighed, as he looked at his sixteen year old self sitting silently in the waiting area, waiting to be picked up. He was finally to be released. Ranger thought back to the time. He remembered that. His arm had been in a cast from three weeks prior, when another inhabitant of the centre had attacked him. He did not fight back beyond self-preservation, wanting to not delay his release. He suffered the arm as a result.

Ranger looked to the side as a pretty young woman came through the doors.

"Little brother." she said affectionately, and his younger self looked up, eyes blank. "Carlos." she whispered, the smile erasing from her face piece by piece. He stood, watching her. "I've come to take you home." she smiled again, sadly this time, at him.

"Celia. Mama didn't come?"

"No. Mama is cooking you a nice supper. And Papa went to the airport to get abuelo and abuela. They are flying in from Miami. Mama wanted me to cook, but I wanted to come get you." she smiled at him again, and he smiled a small smile back. Her face lit up, and she moved forward to give him a hug.

"I miss you, little brother." she said, taking him by the arm and leading him out. "So don't be doing anything stupid like that again, alright?"

"Not that I got the chance." Ranger said wryly to his Abuelo. "You were already gone by then..." he said thoughtfully. "And Celia had been so upset when I went to Juvie...Celia has the largest heart..."

"Celia adores you. Always has. You didn't protest too much about going to Miami. You wanted to live with your Abuelos there." Abuelo agreed. "You wanted to be better than what you were, and you always were. You became what you are by necessity, but you do not need to stay exactly what you are. Now is your chance to become what you WANT." he said, then took Ranger's hand once again and spiralled them off to another place.

They were at a local hall, his whole family gathered, as well as many friends. A christmas party, one year when he was off on leave from the army. He walked in with a pregnant Rachel on his arm, late as he had not realized he would be home. Though their marriage was only due to her pregnancy, he was attentive and kind to Rachel, and indeed he liked the nice, conservative girl. She smiled at him, as he took her coat and ushered her into the hall, hand on the small of her back.

"Carlos!" Celia squealed, rushing over and crushing him into a hug. "My favorite brother, oh how I've missed you. How are you? Hi Rachel!" Celia took Rachel's hand and led her to the side as Maria walked shyly, sedately over.

"Maria." he smiled at the teenager. How she had grown, the last eight years.

"Carlos." She had been quiet and conservative ever since the night in the park. But her eyes shone with love for her brother. He extended his arms and she stepped into them, a gentle hug.

"You weren't forgiven." his abuelo's shade told him. "Maria never felt there was anything to forgive. You were simply loved."

They watched as everyone, Carlos included, ate and rank merrily. And when the dancing started, he danced first with Maria, and then whirled Rachel in his arms and danced the night away with her.

"You having a good time, Rach?" he asked at one point, as they stepped aside for a glass of punch. "Oh yes. Your family is very nice." she smiled at him. "Come, lets dance some more." she tugged his hand, dragging him back to the floor.

"She was a good girl, and is a good woman. We were not meant for each other, but we did well by one another, and lived up to our responsibilities. She loves Julie."

"As should you." the ghost told him cryptically, and spiralled him off yet again.

A cold, wet army bunker. Lanterns were lit and soldiers leaned against the sides, under overhangs, writing letters. "Christmas in the middle of this mudpit." one lamented, and they all agreed. Ranger sat under his own overhang, silent, writing a letter to his family.

"Hey, Ranger-man."

"Santos."

"Come join the merriment."

"As your leader, it's best I stay separate."

"Fluff, Ranger. Come on. It's Christmas, afterall. Finish your letter and come reminisce with us."

"You held yourself separate even then." A sigh escaped the spirit. "My time is running out. We must hasten." and he once again took them to another time.

Ranger blinked. They were outside his Babe's apartment. "What? Is this present day?"

"No. Last year. December 2nd." Ranger's eyes flared. The day after he cashed in on his Deal. His Abuelo took his hand and led him into the building, and up the stairs.

He saw himself, and hector, and his Babe, all outside his apartment. He saw himself crooked his finger, and her step hesitantly forward.

"I don't need to see this." he said harshly.

"You do. These are shadows of things that have been, they are what they are, and they are what YOU made."

He continued to watch as his year younger self explained how the keypad worked to Stephanie. And then, she looked up at him, emotions flitting quickly across her face before she blanked them. "_Does this get added to the tab?"_ she asked in a small voice.

"_There is no tab. And there's no price for what we give each other. Not ever. Not Financial. Not Emotional. I have to get back to work."_

He watched himself step way, and Stephanie reach out, as if she couldn't help herself, to stop him. "_Not so fast. This isn't television. This is my life. I want to know more about this no-emotional-price thing?"_

"_It's the way it has to be."_

"_And what's this job you have to get back to?"_

"_I'm running a surveillance operation for a government agency. We're independent contractors. You aren't going to grill me on the details, are you?"_

He was rooted to the spot, staring as Stephanie let go of his shirt in a jerky movement. She took a breath and blew it out slowly, as if calming herself. "_I can't do this. This isn't going to work."_

"_I know. You need to repair your relationship with Morelli."_

As soon as this was said, his abuelo's ghost once again grabbed him and dragged him away.

"NO." he said harshly. "I want to stay."

"You broke her heart. She went inside and cried. You don't need to see that. You already know it." he told him, forcing him into the wind one final time, and landing them back in his bedroom. "You think about that."

"She went back to Morelli." he pointed out.

"You sent her back. She couldn't have you, not in any way. You would give no quarter, give no emotion. Accept no emotion. She went back to Morelli because he was available. But that day, he was second choice. And has been ever since. Go to bed, Carino, and think hard about this in the morning. The next spirit will be here shortly. Sleep while you wait. Te amo."

And with those final words, his grandfather faded into nothingness, and Ranger was left alone in his bedroom. He forced blankness back into his expression, and fell into bed, staring at the ceiling while he worked on repairing the little tears his night's journey had made in his heart. Before he could get very far in that venture, however, a gentle chime sounded softly above his head, and he fell into a deep sleep.


	4. An UnPresent surprise

I was going to be evil and make you guys wait a few day for this…but I got to read through it enough that it is complete. And…well…I just decided I may as well post it.

Standard disclaimer – own nothing, not even the freaking plot. And a warning for language. It appears that the spirit that lies herein has a bit of a potty mouth.

**Part 4 - An Un-Present Surprise**

Ranger awoke with a start, and immediately looked at his clock. 3:28. He sat up in bed and gave his head a shake to clear it. Then he began to wonder just what was being cleared when one shook their head. With another shake of his, he flopped down onto his pillow and waited for the clock to toll half past. And so it did. Eyes wide opened, Ranger was prepared this time for the spirit coming to him. He would not allow himself to be taken by surprise again. _Always be aware of your surroundings._ he preached to himself. He felt a smile grow on his face. He was forever telling his Babe that.

"Babe." he said hoarsely to himself. He could feel an unwelcomed ache in his heart. He had hurt her, much worse than he realized, a year past. He pondered that for a moment, and then thought wonderously how amazing it was that she remained around him, that she helped him so selflessly with finding Julie. His babe was a good woman. She deserved better than he.

It was now three quarters past three, and his next visitor had not yet deigned to make an appearance. Hm... maybe it was all actually a dream. Ranger liked the sound of that. Yup, he would wake up in the morning and no longer feel so heavy about his Babe, about his past. He liked the sound of that, too, and with a contented growl, he rolled over and closed his eyes. All was well, and this ghost was not coming, therefore he had not a thing to worry about.

At this point it must be said that in the subject of spectres, apparitions, and those past dead, the Mighty Manoso is not so knowledgeable as he was currently thinking he maybe is. They are also a thing which, like his Babe, the one called Ranger cannot control. They operate in their own manner, and it is not one understood to those still among the living. And so, Ranger was really quite foolish in thinking that it was easy as going back to sleep, and not having to meet with his next guide.

And this is how Ranger found himself jarred awake once again, confusion evident as to how he came to be sitting in the passenger side of a car he had not seen in a year. And beside him, in the drivers seat, was a mangled face he never expected to see again. "Abruzzi." he said, pronouncing each syllable with a sharpness designed to hide his shock, and surprise.

"Manoso. We meet again." Abruzzi grinned, a chilling grin that should never have shown itself on earth for the duration of its existence. The ghostly, ghastly vision of this man of Ranger's past wore the same bloodstained clothing he had died in, a supposed suicide, forced by Ranger's hand. His hair was askew and his face was haggard, an unkempt and vile persona. Further, he appeared decidedly unhappy to be in the position of Ranger's next visitor.

"You are my next guide?" Ranger asked, his voice laced with distaste.

"God has a warped fucking sense of humor." Abruzzi answered. "Like I want to help the man who killed me fix his life so he can reap rewards for the rest of his life AND afterlife. And because you're alive, and I'm fucking dead, I can't even fucking kill you. Nope, instead I get to play fucking ghost of fucking Christmas Present for a man who deserves no more than what he gets." He sneered.

At this point Ranger did something very surprising indeed. He tipped back his head and laughed in deep, sharp barks. "This is priceless." he said, still laughing, eyes on the roof. "And you have no choice, do you?"

"None. I do this, or I get sent to a worse fate." Abruzzi grumbled. "And I, for one, fail to see the humor. Half my fucking face is blown off, thanks to you!"

"Looks good on you." Ranger told him, grinning. Abruzzi's pale face darkened, and the mists swirled around him with greater intensity.

"Come on. Get your ass in gear and lets get this over with. And if you want my advice, don't pay too much attention. You don't want salvation anyhow. You're a fucking psycho."

"And you're not?" Ranger countered. "Let's go. Show me what I am to be shown." There was nothing Ranger wanted more than to get out of Abruzzi's foul presence. But first, he would follow along. Afterall, why deny Abruzzi the displeasure of his company? Ranger's logic was rather skewed in this idea, but if that was what he needed to tell himself to follow along, then he is, for the moment, welcomed to his thoughts. The truth, which he would not admit to himself, was that he did indeed learn something during his travels with his abuelo's phantom, and now he was willing to, at the very least, see where the next ghostly presence would lead him.

With Abruzzi at the helm, he just hoped it wouldn't be to his grave. Ranger sighed, as he followed Abruzzi out of the car and into the swirling mists.

They stopped in the Plum household, where the entire family was gathered in the living room. The children were sitting on the floor. Valerie, Albert, and Grandma Mazur were all seated on the couch, baby Lisa in Val's arms. Mr. Plum sat in an armchair, and Mrs. Plum in the rocking chair. And Stephanie, his babe, sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, her long perfect legs bent, arms draped over he knees. She was smiling, laughing as Angie and Mary Alice giggled happily. There was no fighting in the household this day, and everyone was jolly. Even Edna Mazur was on her best behaviour.

"Presents, now?" Mary-Alice asked.

"I'll be Santa." Angie offered. It was obvious that Angie desperately wanted to hand out the presents.

"Just let me get the camera." Mrs. Plum said, and she got up and went upstairs. She returned a moment later and sat back in the rocker. The girls grinned happily and Angie crawled under the tree.

"This one's for Grandma...This one's for Mary Alice...This one's for Great-Grandma. Oooh, Here, Auntie Steph, this is from Mary-Alice and Me. Here's one for me..." Angie put hers aside, and continued to dig under the tree, making sure everyone had a present to open.

"Open yours first, Auntie." she told Stephanie, who then asked if she was sure her and Mary Alice didn't want to go first? They assured her they wanted her to. They were excited about what they bought her. Ranger couldn't see what it was, from his vantage point in the back corner of the room, but he saw her face light up happily and she hugged her nieces close. The present exchange continued until the tree was empty and the girls were excitedly playing with their new toys. Valerie, Steph, their mother and grandmother all moved to the kitchen to check the food.

"Too bad Joe couldn't come." Mrs. Plum commented as Stephanie chopped an onion. The knife jerked and Ranger cringed as his babe narrowly missed her fingers.

Abruzzi laughed. "She's enough of a danger unto herself, isn't she? My death didn't do much for her safety, huh?" Ranger growled low in his throat, making Abruzzi cackle again.

"Joe and I are done mom. Done. For good. That's all. Joe's got a new girlfriend. She's very nice. Her name is Madison. We're all friends." Stephanie said shortly.

"That's my babe." Ranger whispered, smiling. He knew she was strong enough to make it through this. Knew well she would manage.

"Steph, honey, I'm about to give up hope. You'll never find someone to marry you."

"Mom. Not today." she snapped.

"Ok. Not today." her mom sighed. "I invited that nice Murphy that we met yesterday over, though. Since he's new in Trenton, he has nowhere to spend christmas dinner."

"Mooommm..You didn't." Stephanie sighed.

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Plum bade Stephanie to go answer it. Ranger followed. She opened the door to a good looking guy whose eyes Ranger instantly didn't trust.

"Hi. Merry Christmas." Stephanie said. Unless a person knew her well, one would think she was just fine, but there was a robotic quality to her tone that Ranger recognized right away. His babe was uncomfortable and unhappy.

"Hi Stephanie. Murphy." he offered his hand. Stephanie took it, shook it, and then grimaced when he did not release it afterwards, rather, he stepped inside, stepped out of his shoes, and allowed her to lead him in. She tried to get him to disengage his hand but he ignored it. Ranger gritted his teeth. He desperately wanted to rescue his babe. They sat in the living room, and Ranger stood by the kitchen door, listening to the conversation inside while keeping an eye on his babe. He didn't like how the man looked at her, or touched her. It was more than jealousy, though, it was severe unease. And he never ignored his gut.

"...Ellen, that man is not right for Stephanie." Grandma Mazur stated.

"He's her last chance at marriage." Ellen argued.

"No. He's not right for her. I don't like him." Edna Mazur argued. "She belongs with that Ranger, that bounty hunter with the fabulous package. If I had a man with a package like that..."

"Mother! And besides, Ranger's dangerous for her."

"Ranger lets her be her own person." Grandma argued. "He lets her discover herself, and spread her wings."

"Thanks Edna." he muttered softly.

"Ranger is NOT family material for Stephanie. And I notice he's not here with her today."

"He has his own family, does he not? And besides Stephanie isn't family material, either." Edna scoffed. "Stephanie is Stephanie and it's time you quit fitting her into a precut mold." she humphed, and then slammed the door open, exiting the kitchen. Ranger watched Stephanie and Murphy, Stephanie still tolerating him without much expression either way. Then he saw her laugh at something the guy said, and she began to relax and chat back.

"Any idea if anything's going to happen between them?" he asked Abruzzi, gesturing towards Steph.

"Oh, something will happen alright." Abruzzi grinned, and it was a grin full of joy. It unsettled Ranger to see such a look on this mad-man's face. Perhaps this Murphy would spell trouble for his babe.

"Tell me." Ranger demanded.

"I see a vacant chair at the Plum table on friday nights. And a hamster sitting on the counter, mostly ignored. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, Stephanie's life will not be more than a shade."

Rex would not be with Stephanie? "Explain."

"If these shadows remain unaltered, none who knows her will find her, or the child." he said crytically. Abruzzi's ghost grinned like a chesire cat once again, an evil grin, exacerbated by the bloody gorish mess that was the left side of his face. His ghostly eyes sparked. "It won't matter that you killed me to protect her. You protect yourself from her too strongly, and therefore you will no longer be able to protect her. She will be lost to you. And then she will get what she deserved when I lived." He cackled uproariously, and then forced Ranger out of the house, swirling the mists around them before Ranger knew what was happening.

He next found himself in his sister Maria's apartment. She was snuggled on the lap of a man who looked vaguely familiar, Ranger noted through the fogs as they slowly dissipated. He had his head bent over hers, mouth mere millimetres away from hers. She smiled up at him, her face shining with love. Ranger smiled - he had not seen such a peaceful look on his sister's face, nor such a happy one, not since before that christmas eve so long ago. The man kissed her softly, and murmurred something to which it was obvious she agreed. He lifted his head, smiling. Ranger's smile disappeared as recognition dawned.

The man bent so lovingly over his baby sister was none other than Lester Santos. Ranger growled. His employee and his baby sister. That was **not** happening. He shook his head sharply but Lester remained. Ranger shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"They are happy." Abruzzi noted. "I could have done some serious damage to that in my life." he said wistfully.

Ranger bit his tongue to avoid snapping back at Abruzzi, whom he knew was taunting him purposefully. He watched as Lester reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small box. He bent his head and said something, causing a soft smile to spread on Maria's face.

"Maria. Love." he said, then appeared to struggle for words. "Maria..." He trailed off and gave up, opening the box and showing her the ring. She looked at him, her expression changing from shock to confusion to surprise to sheer, unadulterated joy. Her face slowly lit into a smile brighter than the new york skyline and she whispered a choked yes. Lester loving took her hand and placed the ring on her finger, then kissed her fingers just below the ring.

"Ranger's gonna kill me." he laughed.

"Carlos loves me. He'll be happy for us." she smiled, and cuddled into him.

Ranger's shock had turned to...well.. it remained shock as Ranger really is not good with emotion - that is, of course, why this story is told. But watching the scene, a small stitch was made in a fissure that had existed in his heart for many years. Then he watched at Maria stiffened.

"What, love?" Lester asked gently.

"Well..if we are married...then..." she trailed off, going red.

"Beautiful, things will be no different. I will tell you that when it happens it will be very pleasant, and not as your memories. But it will only happen when you are ready." he rubbed her back, cuddling her to his chest. As Maria relaxed again, she lifted her face for a slow, loving kiss.

Ranger watched, and smiled as he realized that his man would take good care of his baby sister. It tore him to know that his inability to protect her was the cause of her hesitations, and the threads strained on the stitch to the fissure and for the first time in a very long time, Ranger had no choice but to feel real pain.

"I hope Carlos comes to christmas tonight." Maria said wistfully. "I miss him and wish to see him."

"We leave." Abruzzi commanded, and once again the mists swirled around them. Ranger would have liked to stare at his sister a moment longer, as the realization that she loved him despite everything settled in. Yet Abruzzi's shade was determined to give him the least chances to repair things, and he warped them off to another scene. As they faded out from Maria's living room, a knife was thrust in Ranger's chest as he heard his sister's voice, wispy in the distance, tell Lester that she wished to name their future first son Carlos.

They apparated again in his parents living room. The tree was festive and decorated still with objects he and his five siblings had made through childhood. His whole family was gathered, sprawled on furniture and the floor, wherever they fit. The children ran and shrieked, laughing and giggling and playing. No one's face was without a smile. His family was boisterous and very close. It was only he who held himself to the outside of it all.

"Your family." Abbruzi sneered.

Ranger cast him a dark look and turned back, watching. His family. He loved each and every one of them. Celia - he had always been her favorite. She was chasing after her two year old twins, who were giggling gleefully as they ran, cupcakes in hand.

"Gotcha, you little monsters." Celia laughed, scooping up one in either arm. She carried them back to the living room, as they kicked and giggled, and handed them off to their father to be kept still while they ate.

"Is Carlos coming?" Celia asked as she walked back into the kitchen. Abruzzi gestured him along, expression dour, and Ranger followed on a sigh. He really did not want to be in the kitchen with the women any more as an observant spirit than as a real person.

"Don't know, Carino. He wouldn't give me an answer. If he doesn't have to work, he says. That is not an answer." His mother's voice sounded wistful, sad. Ranger found he didn't like that tone associated with him and he cringed, to Abruzzi's delight.

"Not much of a family man, huh?" he mocked. Ranger dutifully ignored him, knowing that there were more important things to do in this place than react to the shade's taunts.

"Humph." Celia rolled her eyes. "Someone oughta crack that man upside the head. Does he not realize that Christmas is not Christmas without him?"

"Carlos always thinks he's better than us." Rosita scoffed. Ranger smiled sadly - he had never been close to Rosie, she had never understood him or he her. He was the black sheep, though. They fit, he did not. They were better off without him. At least, he thought, Rosie told it as it was.

"No." Celia snapped sharply, her eyes narrowing, face growing dark. "Carlos thinks he's not good enough. And then when he comes and you treat him like he's not, it just re-inforces his belief. If you'd let off him maybe the rest of us could convince him to come more often."

"Whatever. All he ever does is hurt us, break mama's heart. We are better off without him."

"You little -" Celia began, before their mother interjected a timely interruption.

"Rosie, go check on your children and hold your tongue." she told her second daughter. Rosita humphed and stormed out. Ranger watched her go, then cast his eyes downward. He did not want to hear this.

"Celia, you know what your sister is like." their mother started. "No point in letting her get to you."

"Mama, she has always bullied Carlos. And now she uses words to hurt him. He already thinks he hurts us by being here, that he is only asked out of obligation. He thinks we look down on him. Rosie confirms all that for him. He has never forgiven himself for Maria, you know." Ranger saw, to his horror, tha this sister's cheek held a lone tear, slowly trickling down.

"That was not his fault." Alvida growled. Only two years older than he, the fourth child in the family, she was a mere ten when that incident occured.

"IT WAS!" Ranger exclaimed despite himself. His family paid him no mind, for to them he was not there.

"No, bu Alvi, he believes it to be." Celia returned. "Carlos is so very hard on himself, and he truly feels we are better off if he is not here. Every year I hope he'll come, every month I hope to see him, and I never do. I miss my brother."

"He was always your favorite, wasn't he?" Alvida asked.

"Yes." as the oldest, Celia had looked out for him. "Rosie was always so spoiled and needy. And then Marcello was big, brawn, and tough. Then there was you, Alvi, sweet as pie, but Carlos... Carlos was little, and troubled. And Rosie was so mean to him all the time, I just... I just loved him. He was mine to protect. I did a pretty bad job of it, though." Celia sighed. "Maybe I should go see him later. Stop by after supper with some leftovers, and force him to visit for an hour or so. I miss him."

"If you do I'll come too." Alvida said. "Maria will want to also."

"Yes, she will."

"Maybe he'll come." their mother added in again, as she prepared the turkey. "Maybe if you phone him, Celia, he will listen to you. My son is a good, wonderful man, but I do not want him to be an island."

"He does it to protect us. To protect himself. But I don't want to be protected." Celia's voice rose in intensity.

Abruzzi nodded and the room spun, and suddenly Ranger found himself in the dining room at supper. There was an empty chair next to Celia. His chair. Everyone was chattering happily, but Celia, his mother, and Maria all kept glancing at the vacant hole. It was a weighty presence in the room.

As his mother placed the last dish on the table and sat, the table silenced. Wine was poured, and toasts were made. Finally, after four or so, his mother spoke up. "To Carlos. May Trenton be safe tonight, in his presence."

"To Carlos." two words, spoken in broken staccato down the table. All but Rosie drank.

She scowled, when her mother and sisters looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Why? Why drink to him? He has no heart. He does not care. Let him begone. We're better off."

Celia's eyes shone with temper and she slammed her glass down. "You spoiled little b-"

"CELIA." her mother demanded. She then turned to Rosie. "You will lose the chip."

Lester was frowning through the exchange. "Is it normal for him to miss dinner? I can call him."

"No." Maria said sadly. "There's no point."

"He stays out of some misguided idea that it protects us." Celia said softly. "I will go see him tonight. I hate to think he's alone on christmas. Maria, you should come, he will be glad to hear your news."

"I know." she agreed. "I will come. Les lives there anyway, it is easy. He can take me home after we see our brother."

The toasts resumed and noise resonnated as the meal began again. Ranger's hands clenched spasmodically at his sides as he watched, and the mists swirled, and took him away again. They soon found themselves back at Abruzzi's car. A return point, a circle of constant evolution.

Throughout their travels Abruzzi had kept his hands enshrouded under a darkened veil of cloth attached to the cuffs of his rust-stained shirt. Now, as he reached for the doorhandle to his car, the shroud slipped away and his hand was revealed. Attached to the hand were two wiggling growths.

"Abruzzi." Ranger said gruffly. "What are those?"

"Another cross I must bear. Supposedly a lesson to me." he stated, holding out his hand. And Ranger saw that attached to the hand were two little children, hideous and misshapen.

"Are they yours?"

"They are man's. And they cling to me, draining me, making me feel as their victims feel. As my victims felt. The girl is Ignorance. And the boy is loathing. Beware them both, but Beware the boy - for even self-loathing harms others and upon that brow spells your doom." He sighed, and turned away.

"Abruzzi." Ranger intoned. The shade turned back to him, car door now open.

"Not that I care either way if you are doomed or not, you know. I am no longer but a pawn in another chessman's game. And this was the move I was required to make. Know that it was under duress."

The clock tolled 5, and as Ranger blinked, Abruzzi and his car were gone, leaving him standing on the side of the road, stranded. As the last stroke faded in the distance, he closed his eyes and took a calming breath. On instinct he turned away, and upon opening his eyes he beheld a solemn phantom, draped and hooded in midnight black, floating above the ground, gliding towards him. The air turned frigid and the hairs on the back of his neck all stood on end.


	5. Foretellings of Thy Own Creation

Not sure what I think of this part. I hope it lives up to the expectations I appear to have set in the past parts. The end definitely deviates from Dickens, but It just kinda…happened. I worry though that the strength of emotion just isn't there as it was in Pt 4. Hopefully this is not a let down, says the author who is unsure about posting this just yet…problem is, I may never want to post it….so I'm just going to wing it.

As always, own nothing, claim nothing, want nothing but happiness and the joy of accomplishment. And, well, I WANT Ranger but JE seems to have him firmly in her clutches and my attempts at batnapping have yet to prove even remotely successful.

**Part 5 - Foretellings of thy own creation**

Ranger watched in tense silence as the spirit glided up to him. It stopped directly in front of his person, cloak touching his bare toes. Wait a moment, Ranger thought. He's barefoot? He looked down at himself. In only black silk boxers? Why had he not noticed this before? Troubled by his realization he wrinkled his brow and clenched his hands, momentarily forgetting, or perhaps just disreguarding, the presence in front of him. He was not distracted for long, however. The Manoso can afford no such weakness.

Slowly, he raised his eyes and stared into the depths of a hooded shroud. The hood was peaked at the top and front, and contained naught but blackness within.

"I suppose," remarked Ranger, "That you are the ghost of Christmases yet to come." A good observation, he thought to himself, and a most practical one. Though he never thought a day would come when he considered the presence of otherworldly essences to be practical. He gazed at the spirit, and waited. For what, he was not yet sure.

"You are to show me shadows of what has not yet happened, but what is coming along this path, correct?" Ranger finally spoke for him, irritated with the silent patience being displayed. He was a busy man, he could not afford this time.

The hood contracted briefly to the left, as if the spirit had tilted its head in acquiesence. This, and only this, was received as answer.

"Will you not speak?" he demanded.

The figure said naught, but but one black gloved hand emerged, palm facing down, from the depths of his shroud and circled until the palm faced up. Ranger suddenly found himself flying in the air alongside the creature envelopped in black, and the world sped past at a rapid rate. They landed in a cemetery, in broad daylight.

"What is here?" Ranger asked. The spectre was silent. Ranger looked up, and then he saw.

His family gathered, surrounded by a grave. His was in mother in tears, his father's face drawn, arms wrapped around his mother. Celia stood pale and stonefaced, her husband beside her and her children seated on the grass in front of them. Maria was burried in Lester's chest, shoulders shaking violently. A tiny newborn babe in a blue blanket rested on Lester's shoulder. Rosie stood stoic, for all appearances she could have cared less.

"My funeral." he said softly. He obtained no confirmation, no denial. He simply knew. It was his. He watched as his family mourned.

"How did I die?" he inquired of the spirit. He received no reply.

He watched even longer, as the ceremony completed. Many filed away from the site, but his family and employees remained.

"I am sorry." Tank approached the family. "I tried to stop him from going in there. He had not been himself, these last three years."

"He mourned her." Celia said softly. "He mourned her as he would no other. His regrets weighed his shoulders even more. And we never did a thing to stop it."

"The news last week..." Tank trailed off, as if unsure how to continue. "He didn't take it well. He took a risk, but it was not calculated. He did not think clearly. I should have prevented it. I am sorry."

"You are not to blame, dear one." His mother said through her tears. "Do not make the mistake my Carlos did. Do not think you are unredeemable. Do not think you are not worthy of others affection. Do not take the world upon your shoulders to the exclusion of all else." She began to cry in earnest. "I wish... It was... It was my greatest mistake... Not pushing him, not making sure he knew. Not making sure he changed."

"Mama, we did as best we can. We cannot regret either." Celia rebuffed.

"He didn't care about us. There is no reason to really care about him." Rosie scoffed.

"He cared!" Celia shot back angrily, tears flowing rapidly. "He forced himself not to care! He shut his heart long ago to protect it, and, in his mind, to protect us. If you don't want to understand him, FINE. But do not. Do NOT. EVER. SPEAK ILL. OF HIM. AGAIN." Celia had moved into her sister's face, screaming and crying and the knowledge that her world was forever changed written across her every feature.

Ranger stood, stone-faced. Internally, he fought his emotion down, a battle of willpower he began to fear he was losing. He turned to the spectre. "Where is my babe? Why isn't she here?"

The figure once again circled his hand until it lay palm-up, and they lit on the air once again. Ranger once again found himself in a cemetery, recognized by him to be in the Burg. He stood, in fact, in front of one Stephanie Ines' grave. The grass was green and beautiful flowers sat in front of the headstone. White lilies, yellow daffodils. Three Roses with a card from Morelli. And a bouquet of flowers of every color, a picture of vibrance, with a card showing to the world, encased in plastic to protect it from the elements. Ranger glanced over the card and stilled. He read, one word, in a scrawling hand well known to him. "Sorry."

"Babe?" he inquired of the shrouded figure, not expecting an answer, knowing it all the same.

"Stephanie Plum." a voice he once knew better than his own agreed, from the depths of the cloak.

Ranger jerked backwards, reeling off of his feet. Indeed, he would have fallen were he not fettered to the ground. "Show yourself."

"Oh, but where is the fun in that?" the voice taunted back jauntily.

"Show yourself and tell me what happened to Steph." Ranger growled back.

Slowly, painstakingly, the shroud began to lift. It was as if the spirit intended to taunt him. The spirits seemed to enjoy taunting Ranger, indeed. The shroud slowly unveiled black combat boots, shiny as day. Then legs, braced apart, pants stretched tight to muscular strength. Then hips and a torso, well toned, and hands and arms, a neck, a chin, a mouth, a nose, and finally it dissipated completely and none other but Diesel was left standing in front of Ranger.

"Ah, Buddy. It's been forever." Diesel grinned.

"Forever an ass, I see." Ranger growled. "Tell me what happened to Steph. Now."

"All in good time, Ranger-man, all in good time. First, have a sit, lets catch up on old times, shall we?"

"No." Impatience made his speech terse, he wanted, no, he needed, to know what happened to his Babe.

Diesel made to disagree and voice his command again, but thought better of it and sighed. "Fine, you right stubborn bastard."

"After you tell me about Steph."

"Come on." Diesel said, and they were instantly in the air again.

"No hand gesture required?" Ranger asked as they flew.

"Nah, that was just to fun ya."

They landed in the Rangeman building, in Tank's apartment.

"You haven't changed at all, have you? I said show me STEPHANIE." Ranger's voice grew in increments as he became increasingly more upset. Indeed, he was showing emotion for the first time in his adult life. It was an uncomfortable sensation for him, foreign and novel.

"You must see this first." Diesel sighed. "This order, I cannot alter. Watch." Diesel inclined his head, and Ranger looked over to where Tank, Lester and Bobby all sat in Tank's apartment.

"He did take Murphy down. He succeeded, if it is any consolation." Lester told Maria, who was still crying softly. "And we can tell little Carlos all about how great his father was."

"You'll tell him about the time he got us out of that jungle. When he managed to save our asses and get us out of the weapons compound. The way he made sure we succeeded saving America." Tank demanded.

"No." Ranger gasped. "Do not tell him that." He looked at Diesel, a helplessness spreading through his limbs, numbing him, freezing him to the floor. Images of that time flashed into his head. Lester, Bobby, Tank, Himself, Diesel, and Joker all jovially heading into the rainforest for a mission they felt could not go wrong. The laughing ease they had created was only a mask, he remembered, a mask for the impending doom he felt coming down on their heads. He knew the danger of the mission. He remembered all to well what he knew going in. He looked to Diesel. "A fine thing, if they tell that child about how their uncle murdered two good men." he said, bitterness creeping into his tone, masking the guilt, marring his face.

"I will." Lester had agreed. And Maria looked to him.

"What is this story?" she asked, voice broken through tears.

"It is the story of how Ranger managed to save all but 2 of our men, on a suicide mission where we all should have died."

"Yeah...that was definitely little incident that Joker and I both got the short end for." Diesel said, as he once again sent them up into the air. They floated slowly over the darkened skies of Trenton, Diesel appearing in no hurry to reach their next destination.

"You don't need to remind me." Ranger said, flatly. Surely he need not a reminiscence of the time he failed them both. He tested the air around him, and wondered about the scientific logistics of the situation he found himself in, attempting in vain to staunch the flow of memories that tormented him daily, the guilt and pain and knowledge of his betrayal.

"Oh, but you do, buddy. You need to be reminded because you have the wrong idea about what went down." Diesel shot back harshly. The joking, debonair man was gone, and in his place a narrow-eyed, angry beast ready to fight to be heard. Indeed, it appeared Diesel would cheerfully shove Ranger out of the sky, at this moment.

"Right. I have the wrong idea about a conscious decision to knowingly sacrifice my team for the sake of the mission."

"You think we didn't know going in that it was risky?"

"It wasn't just risky. It was lethal."

"Because of the risk, Ranger. You know, absolutely nobody blames you, except for your own obstinate self." They began a descent towards the solidness of earth, a straight arrow drop to Stark Street.

"No. Because there was one way, and only one, to accomplish that mission. And that was at the expense of Good men. I should have ordered us back; I should have sacrificed the mission for the safety of my team. But I didn't. I betrayed you all." The conversation ended by necessity as they alighted ground.

They landed in a rundown apartment, surrounded by mess and an empty, hollow atmosphere. Furniture was ratted, torn. Papers were strewn on the table, and toys piled neatly in a corner of the living room. The floors were clear and counter tops empty. The aura was such of someone's desperate attempts to make nice what was unrepairable, unredeemable.

Ranger focused on the room before him. "This Steph's?"

"Yeah. Steph and Murphy's. They married...Oh...five months after they met? Her mom finally put enough pressure on. She was already pregnant. I couldn't talk her out of it. Possibly a force-tactic on Murphy's part. You didn't talk her out of it. Hell, you wished her well and broke her heart again, if I remember correctly." he added, glaring at his pupil, face twisting towards disgust.

"And how -"

"Hush." Diesel interrupted Ranger's abrupt reply. "They are coming."

Suddenly the door opened and Ranger watched as Steph entered, a small child no more than 3 walking along beside her, small hand in hers. The little girl was perfect, bue eyes, curly brown hair. She was the image of her mother. Ranger smiled, a tenderness invading the air surrounding him.

"Take your shoes off and put them away neatly Carly. Daddy will be home soon and I have to make his supper." The little girl had sat to take her shoes off, but stopped abruptly as her father was mentioned.

"I don't want daddy to come home." she whispered.

"Me neither, hon, but we take our lot and deal with it." she said sadly. And Ranger saw what was different then, the brokenness of his babe's beautiful spirit. The shadow of a bruise peeked out from underneath the collar of her shirt, and his heart clenched.

"He beats her." Ranger said, without preamble.

"And more." Diesel agreed.

"Carly?" Ranger asked.

"Steph picked the name. It was as close to Carlos as she could get for a girl. She couldn't get you out of her heart."

"Is that why the bastard -"

"No. Watch." Diesel said, as the locks clicked in the door. Steph went pale, and Carly snuck backwards on her bum across the kitchen, to the living room, then to hide behind the couch. The door opened, and Ranger himself appeared.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you knock?" Steph asked.

"I did. You didn't answer. I saw your car, but not his. I worried." he stated simply, in a neutral tone.

"I'm ok. We're here." Carly peeked around the corner.

"Hey Carly." Ranger said gently. "How are you?"

Carly didn't answer, just stuck her fingers in her mouth. Ranger looked back to Steph.

"What's with the bruise?"

"Oh, same ol, same ol, I'm such a klutz." Steph laughed. Her humor did not reach her eyes, and Ranger's own narrowed dangerously.

"Babe." he said, voice whisper soft. "You know I'll help you, right? You'll come to me if you need me, right? Anytime, no questions."

"You've always been there for me, Ranger. Really, you don't need to be cleaning up my every mess. You deserve better."

"Your life isn't a mess. You deserve better. I need to know you're safe. This doesn't feel safe." The Ranger of the future was repeating words Ranger himself remembered telling her, in Spyro's house, when she wanted to stay.

"I'm ok. Really." she said softly, eyes downcast.

"Babe." Ranger lifted her chin with one finger, until she was looking him in the eyes. "Promise me. Promise me you'll come."

"Sure. I promise." she said. Every aura emanating from her confirmed that she said what her visitor wanted to hear, that she would never darken the doors of the Rangeman building again.

"I better get going. Don't want to stay too long." Ranger looked at her a long moment, then turned and left.

"Thank you." Steph said softly, as the door clicked closed.

Unbidden, Ranger felt a tear form in his eye as he watched the scene unfolding.

"He's nice mommy." Carly said from behind the couch.

"Yes. Mr. Ranger is a good man sweetie."

"Can we live with Mr. Ranger?"

"No hon, we can't. Daddy would get very mad and he would hurt Mr. Ranger too." Steph said, a tear sliding unbidden down her cheek. She turned back to finish supper, and jumped as the locks clicked in the door again a few minutes later. Murphy Ines entered, obviously drunk and levitating above ground, his blood boiling under influence of drugs best left in the gutter. Steph turned to look at him and shrank back. Carly tucked herself further behind the couch.

"Someone was here." he stated, voice neutral, only his eyes belying the true danger of his statement. The room began to close in on them, as anger, doom, fear and anguish all took over, squeezing out the air until there was no room for breath.

Before Ranger could react, Diesel sent them into the skies once again.

"No. I want to go back."

"I won't make you watch what happens next, Ranger. You'll remember all this when you wake up. You don't need to remember the next part." Diesel argued. He set them back down in the cemetery, and sat in front of Stephanie's grave. Ranger sat too, by the headstone, tracing her first name with his finger. "That night, in the apartment. That was the last time you saw Stephanie. You were, in fact, the last person to see Stephanie. She disappeared that night, her and Carly. Three years later their remains were found, washed up on an embankment in pieces, in an overlarge hockey bag. A week after they were identified, you died at Murphy's hand in a mission to take his operation down. You went in half-cocked."

"Tell me more."

"That's all you need to know." They lapsed to silence, Ranger's mind in turmoil. His stomach and emotions churned in synchronized time, cadence and unbidden. His mind spun, throwing him to the edge of the precipice, and he stared down. Down it, swirling at the bottom, he saw all the images shown to him that night.

"Buddy... Do you remember what made our team great?" Diesel asked, bringing Ranger's mind back to the present before he could do the damage he was inevitably funneling towards. "It was the way that the six of us, ALL six of us, knew what each was thinking, new what was going down, intuitively, without question. We all knew what we were facing that day. We knew what the cost was to ourselves, and we knew at what cost failure would come. If you had ordered us to step down, if we hadn't gone through with that mission, the safety of our nation, and our nations people, would have been more than at stake. It would have been non-existent. My death, and Joker's death, is a far price to pay for the safety of billions of people."

"We could have waited. Found another way." This was not a subject for which Ranger cared to discuss. He knew what his team did not. He was right. He was to blame. There was no other answer. He shook his head sharply, unwilling to see reason. Or, perhaps it was just that he was unable, for he had spent so long crucifying himself for perceived transgressions in a past he could not control.

"There was no other way." Diesel said sadly. "I knew when I walked into that jungle, towards that building, that I would never see open space again. And I didn't turn tail. Because I knew that if it meant my great nephews, and their grandchildren, would have a chance at a normal world, then my death would mean something. And you, you were the best leader we could have asked for. Another leader would have lost the whole team, as well as himself, and accomplished nothing for it. You lost two out of six men, and you came back, successful."

"You were good men." Ranger said gruffly. "You should have walked out of there alive."

"Good men, we were. And Joker is currently atoning for a mistake in life we don't want to see you make also." Diesel offered, gently.


	6. The End, Thy Chosen Path

First, I have to say that I hope I didn't make too much of a massacre of Dickens, or Ranger's character, in this final piece. But I think it is the best that it can be. Keeping in mind that much of what we see in this chapter is his reflections, not his speech.

I feel as if, with the posting of this final part… something has ended. Something which has taken a part of me. I leave something of myself with this, and I'm feeling its loss very keenly, right now.

Standard disclaimer: minor warning for language, and as always, I own nothing, not even the plot. But someday I **will** batnap Ranger, and he **will** be mine, and that's all there is to it. Sadly, that day is not today.

**Part 6 - The End, Thy Chosen Path**

And so Ranger rushed into his Babe's apartment, and headed to her bedroom in long, hurried, strides.

"Babe. Stephanie. Wake up. Stephanie."

"Mmm..Ranger?"

"Steph, oh Babe, I love you. I'm sorry I've been such a fool. I want a relationship with you. I want children with you. I love you, and will always let you fly."

"I love you too Ranger, but Ranger? It's 6 in the morning?"

"Babe, I adore you. I'm sorry for ever hurting you. I was a jackass. I need you in my life, and I lied. My love does come with a ring. Marry me. Please babe?"

Stephanie looked up at him and...

But really, dear readers, we cannot expect such turnabout from a man such as Ranger. While his experiences this night may have brought him to awareness, they will never change his character.

Ranger did go to his babe's apartment, at the disgustingly early hour of 6 a.m. To what end, it is not yet known. For first, we must go back to his bedpost, which he found himself staring at from the chair in the corner by the window. The chair in which he sat when Jonah Greer first came tapping at his door.

"What the hell." he said aloud, standing in one lithe movement. He stalked the room like a caged panther, then shook his head sharply. _Manoso_, he though to himself, _you really are losing it. Ghosts. Yeah right. They don't exist and you know it. And how the hell did you manage to fall asleep in that chair anyways?_ he berated himself. He was sure he wasn't that tired, nor was he drunk. He pulled some clothing out of his closet, black sweats and a hooded sweatshirt, and dressed while contemplating his day. He would let Ella have the day off, he could fend for himself, surely. He'd go down to the gym for a good, hard workout, purge his body, his mind, and his soul. And then, he contemplated, he would spend the day in the control room and see if anyone wanted to be relieved, maybe watch monitors for the day. It would be good if as many of his employees as possible could spend christmas with their families. Those who had families, of course. He mentally ran through the list of who was on that day, remembering how they set the schedules so that those who had nothing else to do could work, and those who wanted to spend Christmas out had no need.

In fact, he thought, Tank was probably the only one who was working who might have wanted time to spend elsewhere. With Lula, of course. Ranger remembered telling him that Lula was welcome to come down to the control room if she wanted, and they had already celebrated with his family the night before. Furthermore, he recalled Tank scheduling himself off at four. He smiled inwardly. His second in command was truly smitten in this relationship, and it was nice, he thought, to see him so happy. He finished dressing systematically, then took stock of his necessities for the second part of his day. Gunbelt. Guns. Extra ammo clips. Knife. Ankle strap with gun. Credit cards and cash, despite the fact that he undoubtedly would not need them, that he was likely to remain in building. He walked towards his closed bedroom door, intent on going down for his workout.

Ranger opened the door and stepped out. He took three long strides towards towards the door before an irregularity on his far wall caught his eye, in the faint light cast by the lamp at the entry. He halted abruptly and turned. "What the fuck?" he uttered. And then he stared. His face grew ghastly and pale as he registered the meaning of the sight before him. His psychological issues were worse than he had originally considered, he thought. For to have shot a hole in the wall in his sleep. For to have imagined a ghost, and shot at nothing. Perhaps he needed to see a doctor. But no, he would rather die than admit a problem to a head-shrink. Certainly, he thought, he would further increase security to the apartment. Then he would leave his guns in the kitchen, so as to not shoot them when asleep. A logical solution to a logical problem, he praised himself. He walked to the door, and opened it, stepping across the threshold.

One foot out the door, one in, Ranger stopped. He was unsure what it was, but something was compelling him to turn back. The bullet hole was burning a path in his brain and he found himself, quite against his will, turning back and closing the door once again. He walked with unhurried strides to the whiskey glass on the counter, cocking his head sideways to look at it as he passed. He walked up to the hole, reached out, and traced it with a finger. It was a small, distinct little fissure. The impact, however, created many tiny little cracks, leading out from the puncture as if veins or nerves. The pathways traveled a distance, and then as suddenly as they were there, they were not. He traced a few with the tip of his pinkie, eyes narrowed, mind in a whirlwind. Words came back to him, taunting his brain, forcing him to re-acknowledge what he was so desperately trying to shove off as a dream.

"_It was a gift of love, and you felt special."_

"_Carlos thinks he's not good enough. He thinks we look down on him."_

"_Your mama was proud of you."_

"_I want to name our first son Carlos."_

"_I miss you, little brother."_

"_You have the wrong idea about what went down."_

"_Ranger lets her be her own person. He lets her discover herself and spread her wings."_

"_That day, he was second choice."_

"_Absolutely nobody blames you, except your obstinate self."_

"_A vacant chair at the Plum table friday nights."_

"_Another leader would have lost the whole team, as well as himself, and accomplished nothing for it."_

"_Even self-loathing harms others and upon that brow spells your doom."_

"_Daddy would get very mad, and he would hurt Mr. Ranger too."_

"_There was no other way."_

"_You became what you are by necessity, but you do not need to stay exactly what you are. Now is your chance to become what you WANT."_

"_Three years later their remains were found, washed up on an embankment in pieces, in an overlarge hockey bag."_

"Oh God. Babe." Ranger leaned against the wall, one hand bracing high above his head. His face twisted as anguish wracked his soul.

"_The paths of the future can be altered. ... If I know you, you'll go home and wake up as distant as ever tomorrow. I'm begging you buddy, don't."_

His knees buckled, his legs no longer able to support his frame. Slowly, he sank to his knees, forehead touching the wall, sliding a downward path along it, the palm of his left hand also against the structure, high above his head. He could never have her, never fix this for her. Maybe, maybe he thought, he could warn her. But he wanted more than that. He wanted her. He wanted to be with his family. He wanted all that he denied himself. He wished, more desperately than ever, that he were good enough for her. But he knew that his babe, his wonderful, vibrant babe, who brought so much color to his world, could never accept him as he truly was, the dark side with the light.

"_Do not make the mistake my Carlos did. Do not think you are unredeemable."_

His mothers words echoed through his mind, as he knelt on the floor, body succumbed to the pain in his soul. Pain he had not allowed himself to feel with such intensity for many, many years. He could not forgive himself, but he did not wish to hurt either, so he has pushed that pain far back to the recesses of his heart, where they existed only as a dull ache with the occasional sharp jab. But now, now they were back, and his heart was being ripped out of his chest, shredded, twisted, and reassembled. He wished nothing more than to feel joy along with the pain, but all he could find, anywhere, was pain. He closed his eyes, a desperate attempt to ward off what he felt.

And then, as he knelt, forehead hot against the cool white wall, small plaster crumbles pressing against his skin, he was filled with a sense of calm. A voice in his head, not his own, but unknown, whispered to him: _She will redeem you._ His babe could heal him. His babe always did. And perhaps, he thought, he would take a chance. To be cliche, he thought wryly, he had nothing left to lose. He was so very tired of existing in the shadows. He would go to her, and maybe she would help him step back into the light. With new resolve, he stood and strode to the front door with resolution. He retrieved his keys from the dish on the sideboard, and a small wrapped package from the pile in the entry closet, before exiting his apartment with purpose.

A brief drive later, he slipped the locks on a second floor apartment door as quietly as the ghosts who led him through the night, and walked stealthily to his babe's bedroom. She was there, sprawled on her bed, lost in dreams of Ranger wearing nothing but a santa hat. He did not know this, about her dreams, but he saw the passion in her slumbering face, and heard the murmur of his name upon her lips, and so he was undone.

Silently, Ranger crawled into the bed and spooned his babe from behind. He smiled as she snuggled into him with her happy sigh, and then he drifted off into the first peaceful sleep in a long time.

"Ranger?" He woke a mere hour later to the sound of his name on her lips, her tone sleepy and decidedly sexy.

"Mmm. Babe."

"Why're you in my bed?" her confusion registered in his mind, as he drew her closer to him and tucked her into his body.

"Because I love you." he mumbled. He didn't want to wake up, didn't want to let her go. He cuddled her closer and burried his face in her hair, allowing himself the luxury of slipping away again, of ignoring the pull towards consciousness.

"Love you too. But I don't remember you being here when I went to bed?" Her voice was small, curious, concerned. Unsure. Her first words pierced through his sleep ladden brain, and forced him to begin a slow journey towards wakefulness.

"Wasn't. Was being dragged across the country by ghosts." he grumbled groggily, rolling on top her and slowly opening his eyes. "Babe." he grinned, his eyes dark with sleep and desire. "Merry Christmas." The grin slowly widened as he woke fully and took in her surprised appearance. She appeared content, albeit a bit uncertain, and he slowly lowered his head to take her lips in a sweet, gentle kiss, showing her with his body the words that would not yet come in wakeful mindset.

What're your plans for the day, babe?" He asked her, tracing her ribs with a gentle fingertip after their slow, sweet, languorous love-making.

"Lunch with my parents. And Val and Albert and the girls. They're going to Albert's for supper so we're doing morning and lunch. Then I'll probably just stay with mom and dad and grandma, I guess. I have to be there by 10." She snuggled closer to his side, pressing her body tightly against his, then turned her face and kissed the base of his neck, in the tender hollow where it met his collarbone.

Ranger was silent a moment. He took a steadying breath, and then another. "Would you come with me for dinner?"

His babe pushed herself up, and looked down at his face curiously. "To Rangeman?"

"To my parents."

Her eyes showed her surprise, then tenderness. "I'd love to. Will you come with me too?" He nodded, and she gifted him with a smile that pierced his heart.

He knew she did not understand what was going on, and he could not yet explain. He felt even more tenderness towards her as she so notably accepted him despite it. Her affection was unconditional, and it had never been more evident to him than it was on this chilly, white morning when magic was wrought. Truly he thought, it was she who was magic in the relationship. He hugged her tightly in his arms, revelling in the feel, praying that she would allow this recurrently, for the rest of their lives. Praying that she would accept all of him. Praying he could find the courage to let her in.

They exchanged gifts without dressing. Reaching across the bed he grasped the package he left on her nighstand. Sitting up against the head of her bed, he pulled her up and against him with one arm, before taking her hand and placing the box within her fingers. Carefully, gently, she opened it to reveal a beautiful necklace - an eagle in full flight with aquamarines for eyes. She accepted it with tears in her eyes, and he reached around her to attach it about her neck, before they exchanged a tender embrace.

She leaned across him then, and opened a drawer to pull out a package, which she handed to him with a shy smile. His babe, shy? Cuddling her to him, one arm around her, he opened it to find within an engraved pocket knife crafted with exquisite detail, Batman and Wonder Woman. The sentiment and meaning behind it had him undone, and once again, they found themselves tangled in the sheets, tenderness accentuating their every touch. Indeed, they perhaps would not have left the bed that day, save for his Babe's knowledge that they must be at her parents by ten.

She phoned her mother to inform her of their extra guest, and hung up laughing.

"Thank god you're coming." she shook her head, gazing at him with tears of mirth shining in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow in question. "My mom. Oh god. We met this guy yesterday when we were shopping for gifts for Val and the girls. Gorgeous guy. Blonde hair. Kind of creepy though in a...stylish sort of way. And mom struck up a conversation. He told us he was new in town. Had no family. So mom figured he would be alone at christmas, and she just told me that she was minutes away from calling him and inviting him to Lunch. As my date." His babe giggles halted as he crushed her to him, hugging her tightly against his body. "Thank god for you." she mumbled once more against his shoulder.

They stopped at his apartment so he could change and retrieve the gifts he'd purchased for his family, and after re-clothing himself in jeans and black cashmere, he exited his room to find his Babe standing in front of the hole in his wall. She turned to him, a peculiar look marring her beloved features. "What?" she asked.

"Just a small misunderstanding with an old friend." Ranger told her, shrugging one shoulder. He stepped over and snaked an arm around her waist to pull her to him.

"He survive?" She asked him, as they exited his apartment.

"Babe." he sighed. "He's been dead for 11 years."

Wisely, Stephanie asked no further questions.

Together they went to her parents, and had a lovely time. His babe's father was a good man, and they found themselves deep in conversation about American Cars, Army life, and Stephanie's unique sense of adventure. Mary Alice was enchanted by him, and kept galloping over to say "hi." He thought to himself that this child reminded him a lot of a young, innocent version of his babe. Her Grandma Mazur was zany as ever, but he tolerated her with amusement and a distant affection, knowing that despite the akwardness of listening to her lean over and whisper loudly to his babe, asking if "she enjoyed his great package.", that she was his babe's most staunch supporter. That alone would lend him affection towards the lady, psychologically impaired though she may be. Even Ellen Plum seemed to accept him a tiny bit more, as he sat with them as a man, not a street thug newly involved in their daughter's life. But most of all, he watched his babe, and his heart cracked a little more everytime he saw her look at him, a tenderness in her gaze that made his heart soar. And this time, he let it.

In the car, before pulling from the curb, Ranger turned to his babe once more. "Babe...I want you to come home with me tonight."

"I'd love to go to the apartment with you." she smiled at him.

"No. Not my apartment. My home."

Ranger waited, breath caught in somewhere between his lungs and his throat, as he watched his babe's eyes widen.

"I would love to go home with you tonight." she breathed. He knew she was thinking of the batcave. He hoped she would not be disappointed when she saw the simple log house, an hour outside of Trenton, which he called home. He smiled, and reached out to gently cup her cheek in his hand. He leaned over and kissed her softly, then let his hand trail down her side, and arm, finally finding hers. He twined their fingers together, and then put the car into gear and pulled away.

He could tell as they drove that something was bothering her, and it prickled under his skin, unpleasant and unwelcome. "Babe." he finally said softly. "I smell rubber. What're you thinking?"

"I'm just wondering..." she trailed off, sounding unsure of herself, insecure. Strange, he thought, his babe was never insecure.

"Babe?"

"Just...Nothing."

"It's something. Spit it out." he demanded gently, squeezing her fingers in his.

"I'm just wondering what this means."

"This?"

"All of this. Your family. The batcave. All of it. Does it mean... Do you want...Are we..."

He squeezed her fingers and let his thumb trace patterns on her hand. "Whatever you want, babe. It means as much, or as little, as you want it to." His heart caught over his mention of little. He didn't want a little from her, he wanted everything.

"What if-"

"Whatever you want." he repeated, the faint tremor of desperate want, and innate fear, in his voice nearly undetectable...he hoped.

"The batcave is forever?"

"God I hope so." he breathed under his breath, unaware that he was speaking aloud. He felt his babe's eyes widen beside him. "If you want it to be." he answered firmly.

"A ring?"

"Perhaps. If you want it. But not today. Please. Let me get used to that idea." he found himself nearly pleading. Ridiculous, he pondered, how the mention of such a tiny piece of jewelry could inject such cold fear into a man's heart. Definitely he needed more time for that one.

"But it's a possibility." she breathed wonderously, as he stopped for a red light. He glanced at her face, and his heart swelled despite himself at the brilliant smile slowly forming under his gaze. A smile meant only for him. "Promise me something, Babe." He said abruptly. She looked up, questioning him with her eyes. "Don't let me push you away."

"Uh..."

"Please. I want... But old habits... Babe, just don't let me push you away." he entreated, implored, as his eyes bore into hers. She nodded slowly, expression serious. The light turned green and he refocused his attention on the road. They continued the trip in comfortable silence.

"Steph." he said, before she could open the door once they'd parked. She looked at him, her face shining with happiness, yet full of questions. Good questions, he hoped. "You can keep the Turbo." Her eyes widened.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I want you to."

"Ranger, that car costs more than –"

"Pocketchange, babe."

Her face went through a series expressions and she began mumbling to herself. "Pocket Change. The man shows up this morning, I wake up to find him in my bed, and he makes love to me in the most sensuous way I've ever felt, and then he gives me a gorgeous necklace I never want to take off, tells me he loves me, the batcave is forever and oh, by the way, do I want to go there tonight, and maybe a ring might be attached, but let him get used to the idea, and oh, hey, why don't you keep the Turbo, because, you know, it's such a ratty car it barely cost a thing."

"Babe." He said, stopping her rambling speech. He knew where she was coming from. He felt the same way. Everything was spinning and he couldn't grasp an anchor. SHE was his anchor. He didn't know how to reassure her, how to address it. He didn't know how to do this emotional shit. It would be easier to just go back to his normal ways. Inwardly he cringed as he realized how much he had to learn. For the moment, he opted for the easy option, and addressed only the car. "I want to give you the Turbo. I love the way you look in it." His eyes darkened, desiring her. "Take it."

"It'll...It'll...I can't. I'll cry when it blows up." She looked at him, horror written upon her every feature. He couldn't help himself, and he threw back his head and laughed a deep, warm bark. She glared at him as he curbed his hilarity, chocolate eyes dancing sensually.

He leaned forward, and whispered conspiratorially to her, a lightheartedness overtaking him such as he had not felt in any time he could ever remember. "Then I'll buy you another." And he blessed her with his two hundred watt grin, and as much love and adoration as his over-schooled expression could show.

They walked up the walk to his parent's door in comfortable silence, his hand on the small of her back. He rapped once, sharply, and swung the door open. They'd barely stepped inside when his mother rushed out to greet them.

"Oh Carlos, mi hijo, mi amo, you came, you joined us for Christmas." Her eyes shone with surprise and tears, and he realized once again how much he hurt his family by maintaining a distance between them.

"Si, mama." he said gently, returning her hug. "Madre, this is Stephanie. Babe, my mother."

"Oh, Stephanie, Welcome, Welcome. Merry Christmas." She grabbed both of their hands and ushered them into the living room. "Everyone! Everyone! Carlos has joined us and brought a guest!"

"Merry Christmas" everyone chanted, in broken, uncoordinated time, punctuated by "Uncle Carlos! Uncle Carlos!" as Celia's youngest, Tania, came barrelling over for a hug.

"God bless you, uncle Carlos." she said, skidding to a stop and stumbling forward into his legs.

Ranger's face broke into a 1000 watt grin. He swung Tania up for a hug, then looked at his babe, and back at his family, and back to his babe again. He couldn't help himself, and gently touched his lips to hers. He turned back to find Celia, standing in front of him, toes touching his, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Carlos. You came." she whispered. She stepped forward and wrapped him in a tightly bound embrace. "I am so glad you came." she told him.

"Merry Christmas, Celia." he breathed softly in his ear. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, her voice marred with confusion.

"For you." he said, in a tone that implied so many meanings. They drew apart and he smiled tenderly at his sister, before she turned away and snagged her daughter off of the ground before she could run away.

He then found himself faced with Maria. Her smile was tender, full of love, and encompassed by uplifting joy. Silently, she stared at him, meeting his eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. He searched her eyes, his filled with questions. Lester stepped up beside her and he looked between the two of them. Maria's smile widened, and she stepped back, presenting him with her left hand. Sitting on her finger as if it belonged there was a beautiful ring. He looked at it a long moment, before he reached out and drew her forward in a tight embrace. "Congratulations, Querida." he whispered into her ear, before setting her back. "I can't find the words to say how happy I am for you."

"You will not kill Lester?" she asked, expression filled with worry.

"No, querida. Perhaps just break a leg." he grinned at her, and her expression darkened for an instant before he reached out and tweaked one of her curls. Her face broke into a grin that made her look a mirror of himself, and she launched herself back in his arms. Resting his head on top of hers, he looked over at his babe, eyes damp. Her smile, as she stood beside him, made the world feel as if it were finally sitting on the correct axis.

With a kiss to her cheek, he handed Maria over to Lester, and put an arm around Steph's waist, pulling her closer. He looked out into the living room, once again, at the many faces shining with true gladness, cheer, and love. His family. His life. His babe by his side and his family surrounding him, and finally he had come home.

Just then, Tania came running by once again and he let go of his babe long enough to snatch the escaping child up and place her high upon his shoulders, before once again slinging a protective arm around his love. He looked out onto his family, and smiled from the depths of his being. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"


End file.
